


with eyes that know the darkness in my soul

by ExultedShores



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Attempted Breakup, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, It is now, M/M, Podfic Available, is that a tag?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExultedShores/pseuds/ExultedShores
Summary: Teague Martin has dreamt of being the High Overseer of the Abbey of the Everyman since the very moment he donned a Mask of Holger for the first time. He was not expecting his first day in Office to be marked by panic, deep-rooted fear, and a realisation of unwanted, unneeded feelings he really, really can’t deal with right now.For when he spent his first morning in his new office, he found an old plan of Campbell’s that caused his blood to turn to ice in his veins.There’s going to be a sweep of the Flooded District,today, with only one goal in mind: find and incapacitate the infamous heretical assassin Daud, the Knife of Dunwall.And Teague cannot,will not, allow that to happen. He is not prepared to lose Daud.
Relationships: Daud/Teague Martin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	with eyes that know the darkness in my soul

**Author's Note:**

> You can blame the existence of this fic on two people: [BID](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BID/pseuds/BID/), for making me ask the question "did Martin know about the plans for the Surge, with how Corvo and Daud's timelines overlap?" and [Iva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatestChairman/pseuds/TheGreatestChairman), for shipping these two assholes so much it made me want to write fic for them. So have 3.5k of sappy Daud/Martin, I guess?

Teague Martin has dreamt of being the High Overseer of the Abbey of the Everyman since the very moment he donned a Mask of Holger for the first time. Not because he wishes to be the most pious man in the Empire – a dreadfully boring thing to be, if you ask him – but because the position comes with power, with status and wealth and most importantly, with a chance to _change things_.

He always wondered what his first order of business would be once he finally donned the red coat of the Abbey’s highest authority. Do away with the horrid Trials of Aptitude, maybe, citing his own late induction as proof of their obsoleteness. Perhaps he would start simpler, merely weeding out some of the most corrupt Overseers. Void, maybe he would begin by rewriting the laws on the Heretic’s Brand, to ensure he could never be dealt the same hand Corvo Attano dealt his predecessor.

He was not expecting his first day in Office to be marked by panic, deep-rooted fear, and a realisation of unwanted, unneeded feelings he really, really can’t deal with right now.

For when he spent his first morning in his new office, he found an old plan of Campbell’s that caused his blood to turn to ice in his veins.

There’s going to be a sweep of the Flooded District, _today_ , with only one goal in mind: find and incapacitate the infamous heretical assassin Daud, the Knife of Dunwall.

And Teague cannot, _will not_ , allow that to happen. He is not prepared to lose Daud.

It started so simple at first. One of Daud’s men had been taken by some of his Brothers, locked up to await interrogation, and Daud approached Teague with an offer: get his man out, and be paid handsomely, in coin or in life. The next day, the Abbey’s cells were empty, and a meddling guard of the City Watch was found in the gutter with his throat slit from ear to ear.

It quickly morphed into a most beneficial partnership, information and coin and life traded gladly. Somewhere along the way, they stopped counting favours – and when has Teague ever done _that_ before? Somewhere along the way, they became friends. Somewhere along the way, a heated debate over a glass of whiskey had turned into a searing kiss, all teeth and growls and _want_.

Somewhere along the way, Teague Martin fell stupidly in love with the very last person he should feel anything but hatred for.

And so here he is, knee-deep in floodwater, wading his way through the muck to reach the Overseers’ Outpost closest to Daud’s base of operations.

What a way to spend his first day in Office.

There are only a handful of Overseers milling about the Outpost – why are there so few, where is the rest, by the Strictures let him still be on time – and they all jump at the sight of their High Overseer, his boots muddy and his face a thunderstorm.

“Where is Hume?” Teague demands, his voice a thunderclap to match his face.

The men quiver at the side of him – as they damn well should – and one of them, Archer, if Teague recalls correctly, speaks up in an unusually timid manner. “Overseer Hume has begun the assault on the heretic’s base, High Overseer.”

No. Please, _no_.

“Dammit,” he curses. “He was supposed to wait for reinforcements.”

Teague thought he’d have time. Time to turn the Overseers around, time to think up an excuse as to why he would give such an order – because he didn’t want to lose any men on his first day or some sentimental nonsense like that, that would have gone over well enough. But he has no more time, now.

“Hold this position,” he commands. “When Pike and his men arrive, tell them to stay put.”

“But High Overseer, sir,” Archers dares to pipe up, “surely our Brothers will need –”

“Our Brothers should not have forsaken orders and attacked early,” Teague drawls, trying to get a grip on himself. He can’t lose his head, not when there is so much at stake – his position, his life, _Daud’s_ life. “The plan has lost all integrity. I won’t lose more men than I have to.”

He's out the door the second they bow their heads and salute him, rushing across the rickety walkways Daud and his Whalers built to make the Flooded District more traversable. Teague has never actually been this far into Daud’s territory before; they always meet somewhere secluded, out of sight from both Daud’s Whalers and Teague’s Brothers. It won’t do for either of their people to know an Overseer is associating with a heretic.

It’s not long before he hears the tell-tale sounds of fighting, of steel clanging against steel, of pistols being fired, of grenades exploding – and of course, the sound of music boxes being cranked. There is no better weapon against heresy.

When he stumbles upon the first corpse of a Whaler, he cannot help but shiver. Daud will be _livid_ – though at this point, Teague will settle for him just being _alive_.

The old Chamber of Commerce looms up ahead, and Teague slows his pace from a run to a brisk walk, ignoring the carnage that’s happening around him. It won’t do for his men to see him panic – he just has to get to Hume, order him to retreat. He’ll come up with an explanation on the spot – something about tailing the Whalers while they move base, perhaps, to make sure all the heretics are gathered in one place. Honestly, he’s not fussy, not this time. He just needs to get his Overseers away from here, both for their sake and for Daud’s. Mostly for Daud’s, if he’s honest with himself, and isn’t that just disgustingly romantic of him.

Inside the Chamber, it’s… quiet. There’s still noise coming from outside, but the building itself is almost eerily still. It has the hair on the back of Teague’s neck stand on end, and that’s not an easy feat to accomplish. His boots are loud on the worn wooden floors, even with his carefully light step, and he moves quickly. Hume has got to be somewhere in this building.

He is. In the biggest office – Daud’s office, it’s easy to tell – Hume is sifting through the papers Daud left behind on the desk. Already, banners depicting the Abbey’s symbol have been draped on the walls – how incredibly tacky, really – and the room is filled with Overseers and Whalers alike, though the Whalers are all either dead or bound, awaiting interrogation.

Hume smiles widely when he sees Teague enter. “High Overseer! Oh, so glad you could join us, so glad indeed – men, take the rabble away, would you? Our esteemed High Overseer shouldn’t have to deal with the sight of them.”

As the other Overseers begin to drag the captive Whalers out of the room, Hume beckons Teague over to look at the papers on Daud’s desk, still wearing that insufferably wide smile, but Teague stays put. “What do you think you’re doing, Hume?”

His voice is low, dangerous, and Hume flinches despite himself. “I… whatever do you mean, High Overseer? I launched the attack on the heretics’ base, as planned.”

“‘As planned’?” Teague repeats, incredulous. Outsider’s eyes, the _incompetence_. “The attack wasn’t scheduled to take place until two hours from now. The reinforcements have yet to even arrive. You _broke orders_ , Hume.”

Hume gapes at him. “Yes, well, but…” he stammers, “surely you can’t argue with the results?”

It brings Teague up short, for a moment – because he _can’t_ argue with the results, not really, not when Hume’s team has done a stunningly clean sweep of the place. If he wasn’t so concerned for Daud’s wellbeing, he’d be pleased. But – ah, that’s it. “Tell me, then,” he begins loftily, “where is the Knife? Did you actually manage to kill or capture him?”

Hume falters, and Teague barely contains his sigh of relief. He knows the words that’ll be coming out of Hume’s mouth before he speaks them. “Well, no, High Overseer. Not yet.” He fidgets with the sleeve of his uniform. “But when he arrives, we will surely catch him! He has nowhere to run!”

“He has everywhere to run, you imbecile,” Teague can’t help the laugh bubbling up his throat – thank Void they didn’t get to Daud. “What do you think he’ll do when he comes back here to find Overseers in his territory? Head right on in and give himself up?”

Now Hume visibly pales, and Teague hides a smirk behind his hand. “Pack it up,” he orders, making a show of sighing in disappointment. “The operation is compromised thanks to your little stunt.”

“But High Overseer, sir –!”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Teague says, turning around. “We’re lea-”

In the blink of an eye, there is an unmistakable death gurgle at his back, and a bloody Whaler’s sword pointed at his throat.

“What did you do?” Daud demands, his voice little more than a ragged rasp. He looks awful, his eyes wild and his hair in disarray, blood staining his clothes. The Mark of the Outsider flares brightly through the leather of his gloves. “You bastard, what did you _do_?!”

“Nothing,” Teague denies immediately. It’s the truth, for once. “I didn’t want this, Daud, I didn’t know –”

Daud cuts him off with a scathing laugh, tinged a smidge hysterical. “You didn’t _know_?” he asks, rhetorically. “ _You_ , who has a finger in everyone’s pie, didn’t know about _your own_ Abbey’s plan to attack my base?”

“Yes,” Teague insists, furiously. “I was cast out, remember? I didn’t know what was going on in the Abbey the past few months, not until I was named High Overseer. As soon as I saw the plans…” He swallows thickly around the confession of love that seems to be firmly lodged in his throat. “I didn’t do this, Daud. I wouldn’t. You know that.”

“Do I?” Daud’s tone is still hostile, but the blade in his hand is beginning to shake.

“ _Yes_ ,” he breathes, daring to take a step closer as the tip of the sword sags. “Daud –

The sword is at the hollow of his throat again immediately, this time drawing blood. “Get out.”

His gasp has the tip of the blade dig further into his skin, but he doesn’t even register the pain over the dull ache that’s blooming in his chest. “What?”

“You fucking heard me, Teague,” Daud growls. “Get. Out. I’ll let you live. _This time_. Pray to your little Strictures that we’ll never meet again, because I won’t be so lenient next time.”

He has to fight the urge to argue, to scream, to yank Daud in by the scruff of his coat and kiss him with all the desperation he feels. But his survival instincts have been too finely honed, and he has no intention of dying here today, at his lover’s blade.

“Fine,” he says, his tone emotionless. There has never been anything less fine. “Don’t die.”

Teague Martin flees the Flooded District, with his limbs intact and his heart in pieces.

* * *

The following week is a nightmare.

The Abbey is reeling from the loss of Hume’s platoon – because Daud had no trouble dealing with them, of course he didn’t – and the Overseers are divided between applauding Teague for his attempt to pull the men out of the Flooded District and condemning him for not sending in reinforcements to try and salvage the operation. It’s a headache and a half, but Teague is oddly grateful for the strife; between this and his role in the conspiracy down at the Hound Pits Pub, he’s too busy to even think about Daud.

Until the day his Vice Overseer comes into his office bringing a letter of ransom for twenty-six Overseers who were part of Hume’s ill-fated crusade. Twenty-six out of thirty left alive – or so the letter claims. It’s written in a cursive Teague doesn’t recognise; it’s not Daud’s slanted scrawl or his second’s nearly illegible penmanship, and it asks for fifty gold per life. Cheap, as ransom goes. One might suspect the extortionist is being lenient – or desperate to be rid of his merchandise.

The letter calls for a meeting, in an abandoned apartment just outside the quarantine. Teague is very familiar with that apartment; it is – _was_ – one of the places where he and Daud used to meet most frequently. If he wants to use it for something as banal as an exchange…

Well. Teague has never been one to just let things go.

He’ll go himself, alone, despite the myriad of protests from his Overseers. If he knows Daud – and he does – he won’t risk any of his people dealing with the Abbey, not after what happened in Rudshore. Daud will be the one to handle the transaction personally.

And perhaps it’s foolish – he can still hear Daud’s threat clear in his mind, and he knows damn well the infamous Knife of Dunwall could have him bleeding out in a split second – but he wants, _needs_ , this chance to explain himself. He’s betting on Daud not wanting to murder the new High Overseer in cold blood, not when he’s somehow found the mercy to leave most of Hume’s platoon alive.

So he goes, carrying a pouch containing a thousand coins – no more – and the full detailed plans of the raid on the Flooded District, dated long before Teague’s ascension. They would have been easy to forge, and no doubt that’s what Daud will accuse him of, but it’s all the evidence Teague has. That, and his word – which he knows won’t be worth much, especially not to someone who knows him as well as Daud does.

But he has to try.

The apartment is empty when he arrives. That does not surprise him. And neither do the presence at his back and the blade pressed to his throat only seconds later.

“If you want to try knife play, do let me take off my coat first,” Teague lilts, despite the fact that his heart is hammering in his chest. “Red dyed wool is expensive, you know.”

Daud doesn’t pay any heed to his quip. “I warned you,” he grinds out, his voice rumbling in Teague’s ear. “I told you what would happen if you showed your face around here again.”

“And yet you were the one who demanded to meet with a member of the Abbey here today.”

“Not the High Overseer himself,” Daud growls.

“Right. Because a job of this low a calibre clearly doesn’t call for the presence of an organisation’s highest authority.”

The sword at his throat moves away, just an inch. “Point taken.”

Voiddammit, he just had to go and fall in love with the most stubborn asshole in all the Isles. He’s disappointed in himself, really. “I do have to at least pretend like I care what happens to my men, even if these ones were stupid enough to get themselves caught,” he says. “Their spectacular failure should have been your first clue that the plan of attack couldn’t possibly have been mine. I would never have left _Hume_ , of all people, in charge of a platoon.”

He nearly stumbles when the pressure of the blade vanishes entirely, as does the warm presence at his back. Daud appears before him in a rush of the Void, instead. He still looks exhausted, and there is a hunch to his shoulders Teague is certain wasn’t there before, not even after he killed the Empress. But he’s also all hard lines and sharp eyes, as always, and that gives him an odd sense of comfort. No matter what happened, the man he – don’t even think it, Teague – has not been broken. Not yet, at least.

“Let’s get this over with,” Daud grunts, drawing himself up and crossing his arms. To any other, he would look the pinnacle of power. “I have twenty-six of yours. Fifty coins per life, I’ll let them go.”

Teague isn’t stupid enough to ask for something as silly as proof of life. If Daud says twenty-six Overseers are alive, then twenty-six Overseers are alive. Whatever else, Daud is no liar. “I have a thousand.”

“That’s not enough.”

“It’s all the Abbey can spare,” he says. “We’ve had Campbell as High Overseer for two decades. Our coffers aren’t exactly overflowing, and what we have we need to buy elixir.” And grenades, too, but he doesn’t say that.

Daud narrows his eyes, the way he always does when he’s assessing – and then he sighs. “Fine,” he gives in. “Give me the coin and get out of my sight. Your men will be free to go.”

Teague reaches into his coat – but not to get the coin purse. Instead, he withdraws the plans he found in Campbell’s office. “Not until you look these over.”

It’s a gamble, and a dangerous one at that. Daud is volatile when he’s on edge. But this is the only ammunition Teague has, and he refuses not to take his shot.

Daud doesn’t even uncross his arms. “That’s not coin.”

“An astute observation,” Teague rolls his eyes. “These are the plans for the attack. I thought you might like to know where your weak spots are, if nothing else. And if you’ll look at the dates…”

“You could have easily forged the dates,” Daud points out, but he does take the plans, at least, skimming them quickly. “But this will compensate for the missing coin.”

Teague drags a hand across his face, frustrated. “I didn’t forge the dates, Daud.”

“But you could have.”

“But I didn’t!” he snaps, throwing up his hands. “Do you _really_ think I would have constructed such a poor scheme? If nothing else, you have got to believe I’m smarter than that!”

Daud clenches his jaw. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t –? Of course it damn well matters!” Teague exclaims. “You bastard, I…” _love you_ , he doesn’t say, “don’t care to be falsely accused.”

Daud snorts. “You’ve gotten away with far more than you’ve been accused of.”

There’s a hint of fondness in his tone, and Teague latches onto it like a lifeline. “Yet I seem to be having an unprecedentedly hard time proving my innocence to you,” he points out. “Is this how little you think of me, after everything?”

“I think too much of you,” Daud mutters. “That’s the problem.”

That brings Teague up short. “How, pray tell, is that a problem?”

“Because I don’t trust you.”

“Wise,” he drawls, valiantly ignoring the pang of hurt he feels at those words. He knows he’s not a trustworthy person by a long shot, but Daud is one of the few – the only, if he’s honest with himself – whom he would never betray. “But why is that a problem _now_?”

“Because my base just got attacked.”

“Which I’ve told you repeatedly, I had nothing to do with!”

“Allegedly.”

He’s very tempted to take Daud by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. “Why are you doing this?” Teague demands instead, stepping into Daud’s space. “Why are you so adamant to push me away? You know damn well I didn’t make those plans, so why are you clinging to the notion that I did?!”

“Because I’m going to die, Teague!” Daud explodes unexpectedly. “You don’t think Corvo will come for me, after what I did? He’ll kill me, and I’ll damn well deserve it. So just stop this. Stop… _caring_. I’m not worth it.”

Teague inhales sharply. So that’s the crux of the matter. “It’s a bit late for that,” he says, trying his best to sound nonchalant. “I’ve dug myself into that pit too far to climb back out.”

“You want a hand?” Daud asks wryly.

“No,” Teague denies, and he finds that he means that. “I’d much rather pull you down here with me.”

He grasps the lapels of Daud’s coat, yanking him in.

The kiss starts as it always does; rough, aggressive, _intense_ , like a metaphor for the Overseer and the heretic they are, the strife-filled relationship they’re supposed to share. But they’re more than that. They’re two men trying to do the best they can in a world that is unkind to heretics and believers alike, and their kiss melts into something different, something new, something _soft_. It makes Teague’s head spin, makes affection surge warmly in his chest – and when they break apart, for once, he is not overcome with want. He is _content_.

Daud rests his forehead against Teague’s, his breathing laboured. “This is stupid,” he whispers, though he makes absolutely no move to pull away. “I’ll be dead within the month.”

“No,” Teague all but growls. “I won’t let you.”

“Not even you can stop Corvo.”

“Watch me.”

“Teague –”

“No,” he says again, firmly. “You’re not going to die. Leave Corvo to me.”

Daud’s breath ghosts over his face. “Don’t get yourself killed for me, it’s not worth it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

He kisses Daud again, slowly and deliberately, a show of determination and faith and _love_ , and for the first time, Daud gives himself over to him, allows himself to be led in what can only be a display of the trust he just claimed not to have. What a pair they make.

And suddenly, what he’s been holding back all this time doesn’t seem right to keep hidden anymore. Not from Daud. Teague Martin may live and breathe secrets and subterfuge, but with this man, he wants to lay his very soul bare.

“I love you.”

He breathes the words against Daud’s lips, and he can feel the hitch in Daud’s breathing. “That’s the least intelligent decision you’ve ever made,” Daud hums, but there is a pleased lilt to his voice, a shine in his eyes. “But I… reciprocate.”

Teague laughs. “Aren’t you the romantic?”

There is a delightful flush to Daud’s face. “I’m not.”

“I’ll teach you,” Teague promises. “We’ll have time.”

They _will_ have time. Teague will make sure of it.

Daud is the first to take a step back, fixing the collar of his coat as he does. “I’ll send your men up through the riverfront,” he says, all business, as though he did not just all but declare his love for the Abbey’s High Overseer. “You can lead them out on foot.”

Teague nods. “Very well.”

Daud hands him back the plans from Campbell’s office – another show of trust, because he knows Teague will make sure no more Overseers wander into Rudshore. “Next week,” Daud says, “the old antique shop just off John Clavering, same time as always?”

He doesn’t even have to ask. “Done.”

Daud steps closer to kiss him one more time, a last brush of their lips before he vanishes with the Void.

He didn’t even collect the payment for the lives he’s returning.

Good. That means Teague can use the coin for other means.

Like securing a bottle of poison.

**Author's Note:**

> Whether events play out as they do in canon or if Daud and Martin somehow find a way to circumvent their fates is completely up to you.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] with eyes that know the darkness in my soul (by ExultedShores)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26218228) by [AUX (BID)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BID/pseuds/AUX)




End file.
